


A collection of different mythological themed Malex aus

by pyropinkfish



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Mythological verse, Sirens, human!michael, siren!Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropinkfish/pseuds/pyropinkfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Better summary inside, but basically each chapter is a different fic with a different plot and theme but it still goes around with mythological like merpeople and dragons and harpies, etc. </p><p>I'll add tags and warnings as it's updated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mythological verse; a collection of different aus involving everyone as different mythological creatures. Each chapter is different and is titled by the species Michael/Alex are in that chapter. Requests for certain mashups are allowed! Or certain myths you want filled. If you request something, try to give a prompt or something you want in the fic etc - Dragon/Naga - knotting, vore 

Open to other pairs but I'm mostly comfortable with Malex 

This chapter is an index of what to expect, then proceeds with the next as the actual works 

\--

1) Human/siren - (character death) Michael is quite the fisherman, Alex is quite the catch. / Alex is a siren and Michael is a fishermen (since Tom Wisdom loves to fish for recreational purposes)

2) Harpy/Human - (wing kink, dom!Alex) Harpies are strange creatures, they're powerful, they fly, they murder humans, yet you rub the insides of their wings and they're putty in your hand. / Michael is a harpy, Alex is normal. Drabble fic.


	2. Human!Michael/Siren!Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human/siren - (character death) Michael is quite the fisherman, Alex is quite the catch. 
> 
> Alex is a siren, Michael is a fisherman.
> 
> Sfw, character death, Teens and up audience.

Off the shore of Britain, in 1705, the waters were calm, the sun was high and a small boat drifted peacefully as the soft breeze carried it further away. The boat was older, one hand made from a father, passed down to another father and so on, often repaired but never fully replaced. Now it finally, it belonged to a young inspiring poet. 

1705 was this poet's year. He could feel great things were going to happen. The endless wars that went on around him were nothing but a blur; for on his boat he had but his fishing pole, a bucket, bait, the day's lunch of a meat pie, and of course, his journal and quill. He was all set for the inspiration to hit him, to portray the sea in ways only the beautiful art of poetry could describe, to sell his work and be written as someone to be remember as other great poets before him and surely many after, not just the loyal middle son of a fisherman from a large family. 

For you see, Michael Angelus, only in his twenties, dreamed of great things. To go to the American colonies, to publish his work, to be the one to take care of his family because his older sisters Uriel and Raphael, were in fact women and as the oldest son (born but a minute before his brother), he had a responsibility to withhold to Father. He would not be around forever, and Uriel fancied the company of the Lady from house Helena and not a man. Meaning she would grow old as a maid with no one to care for her. So he had to make it big, or he would be letting his family down. The pressure was yet a blink in such a short span of life.

The wind began to pick up, pushing his boat further from shore, to rougher seas and darker waters. For a minute he wondered if this boat could carry him away to another place. Places; where worries were nonexistent, and wrongs fixed themselves. Dangerously, he decided to lay down, a smile on his lips as he used his journal to cover his face. A little nap wouldn't hurt. As the thunder clapped he stirred awake, slapping the book away from his face, and the hard cover thudded against the wooden floor. 

He was startled into moving too fast, falling face first against the front of the boat where his chin caught the opposite seat and sliced open the skin. With a hiss he gingerly held his sleeve to his face, wincing not only from the pain, but the comfortable shirt he wore for relaxation, a white button up with loose sleeves that cuffed tight around his wrists to make a bell affect, would be stained with his blood. It was all he had though. With a sigh, he sat back down; looking up at the sky. The sun was setting; everything was glimmering in shades of oranges and purple, the distant cloud dark with a nasty storm. It wouldn't reach him as long as he started to head back now.

Michael reached down to get his ore, grimacing when his eyes caught that empty bucket. He didn't even get any fish for dinner. Guilt ridden, the brunet looked between his pole and the sky. That's when a splash startled him for the second time in less than five minutes of consciousness. He turned his head to the side of the boat, eyes widening in shock. No. No it couldn't be. Michael refused to believe his eyes. He just woke, but no— even when he rubbed the sleep away with his clean sleeve, this creature remained. A beautiful thing, short blond locks of hair that looked like a pair of rusty knives hacked at it with a rock, but striking solid blue eyes with tiny black irises and blue scales decorating grayish peach colored skin. It had the texture of an eel. Its lips were thin, and curved into a menacing smile. No... It was friendly. The razor sharp teeth made it more terrifying than meant to be. 

"Wh-what are you?" He whispered in awe, leaning closer to examine the creature. Curiously; as if startled into a sensation of reverence, he stretched out his hand to touch one of the fins that sprouted from a human ear. The creature leaned into the touch, its eyes widening to such an extreme, Michael didn't know it could do that. "Your hand is warm." His voice; choppy, like a gurgled mess of words as if muffled by the dark water around them. Yet still Michael understood him; clear as the crystal springs that flowed through trees. 

"And you are quite cold." He sassed, running his thumb along under his eye. What a curious thing this was— but he still never answered his question. "What are you?" 

"I live under the water." Was he purposefully trying to avoid the question? Michael pursed his lips while he drew his hand back. The creature, whatever he was, didn't like that. He let out a whine, grabbing onto the side of the boat to tug himself up. Panic shot in Michael's eyes. He instantly tried to pry his hands off, shouting that he'll tip the boat and drown him. It was enough to make the creature slink back. In fact, he ducked under the water, clearly spooked when the human’s voice rose. He didn't mean to yell. A horrible guilt that replaced the previous one of letting his family down crept over him in waves. 

The wind echoed his pleas for the creature to come back. Waiting ten minutes, chin forgotten, other worries lost to him, his sea creature didn't appear to be swimming back. With nothing more he could do, Michael began to row his boat back to shore. When attempting to retell the story, his brothers and sisters scorned him, explain it away as heat and blood loss induced hallucination. Michael refused this to be the case and spoke well into the night with his twin about it. After all, they shared a bed and poor Gabriel couldn't move to rest elsewhere while the storm beat down against their house. 

In the morning, Michael rose before anyone else. He readied the boat and a bag of his writing materials, lunch, and a special treat for the creature. His determination to find him again would be his downfall... 

Michael hurried outside, the weather was shockingly cool for after a storm, but that wasn't the only surprising thing about the morning. When he got to his boat, he couldn't believe that this wasn't some elaborate dream his conscious designed to help him cope with the depression and burdens of a poor family. Once again the creature proved to be something far real than a dream. Michael now could see the full body as he lay in the boat, using the rain water to stay wet. The gray and blue creature had a long tail that ended with a huge fin, one that matched his ears. Making him about 5'10. His body went from the head being human enough to pass with its eel like skin, down to straight scales around his belly. They started to thicken where he should have had a belly button. The sides of his torso had large gills cut into him, gaping and fluttering with the boat's water. 

"How?" Michael questioned, dropping his bag against the ground. He sank to his knees next to the boat, propping his elbows on it as he looked closer at the scales. 

"Water?" At first he didn't understand, a furrow of eyebrows made that clear. So the creature outreached a hand and pointed to the ocean. Michael was too busy looking at the scales, how his hands had webbing and fins before realizing. 

"Swim? You want to go swimming?" He mused, grinning when the creature excitedly bounced up and practically flung himself out of the boat on his stomach. It should have been creepy, watching this half fish, half man wiggle into the water. Michael; on the other hand, was too busy shedding his clothes off to be disturbed. The water was brisk, certainly woke him up, when he stepped in. He didn't have time to get comfortable before his companion grabbed his arms and pulled him down to his chest in the chilly morning water. His teeth clicked and the creature smiled, putting his hand on his cheek. 

"Alex. My name is Alex." 

"I'm Michael—" He rushed to reply, grinning so wide it hurt his cheeks. How beautifully simple the name was to such an elegant creature. 

"Michael." He repeated, testing how the word rolled off his tongue. Michael shivered— not from the cold, but from the tone of voice. 

Maybe it wasn't just Uriel who fancied the company of the same sex. Michael couldn't deny the instant attraction he felt once he heard his name off that beautiful tongue. Such a strong accent too. "Swim with me, Michael." How could he say no? He could have asked for his first born with that voice and Michael would have agreed. Anything he wanted, so they swam out, Michael in tow of Alex, whom swam backwards. It was only when his muscles started to ache with the burn of continuous activity that Michael came to his senses. They had to be out in the ocean for a mile, calling for horror to deep root his entire being. 

He tried to pull away from Alex, to start swimming back, but the gentle tone the creature used soon swayed him into compliance. It was thick, this affect he had, like a drug, he could swear he could hear faint music too. Soon the tiredness didn't matter, his stomach churning and growling from hunger didn't matter. Only how Alex cooed at him, offering pets and encouragement that led him further and further away from shore. 

Michael didn't even notice that he was being tugged under the water when it started to happen. He didn't have time to panic— no, there was no need to panic. Alex's lips, surprisingly soft against his, gave him all the reassurance he needed. But the salt water that burned his eyes could no longer be ignored as he watched the light of the surface grow further away. The water was so cold, but it was okay, the music was playing in his ears. He could finally hear it clearly. It was a gentle sound, like home— but it was also dark. Lonely. 

His eyelids fell heavy, his body stopped responding, it just drifted as the creature, as Alex, pushed him down and finally pulled his lips away with the last bit of breath that Michael's lungs had to offer, sealing his fate with a pleasant, comforting smile. Michael didn't even mind how old death was by the time the music stopped playing. 

It was common knowledge amongst fishermen that you avoid the siren; once you start to hear their song, you were already too far gone with their spell. Michael would have known that if he wasn't always so busy being with his nose in a book.


	3. Harpy!Michael x normal!Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harpy/Human - (wing kink, dom!Alex) Harpies are strange creatures, they're powerful, they fly, they murder humans, yet you rub the insides of their wings and they're putty in your hand. 
> 
> All the angels are harpies instead, but everything else is typically the same. Short drabble!

Harpies— they were strange creatures. The legs of a bird, the torso of a man, their arms connected to their wings but had functioning use of their hand like a bat. Harpies were bizarre and they’re also dangerous. These creatures are blood thirsty, they swoop in and killed tens of thousands of humans, bringing the human population to the brink of extinction. They were as big as a man, if not, slightly bigger, and God have mercy on you if you pissed one off because they didn’t know when enough was enough. 

And yet? Alex could brush his fingers over the oil glands under Michael's armpit and watch him shudder. All the danger about these creatures washed away in one simple gesture that had a harpy cooing in delight. Like a switch was hit and Alex did it by pure accident. There wasn't going back from it either, not when they were already sprawled on Michael's bed-nest, Alex's hands buried deep in the thick feathers of his wings. Michael was a mess, panting and pressing back against him, though he didn't say much, his body language spoke for him. 

Alex lazily rubbed the skin under his feathers in circles, watching while Michael's talons dug into the sheets. The sharp claws ripped the fabric, a shame considering it was pretty— not that the harpy actually seemed to care. He was far too busy threading his fingers in Alex's hair. The soft feathers against the nape of his neck felt good, and the blond liked to lean back against his arm/wing while he pressed his thumb hard into the other wing's oil glands. The sweet, wood colored oil that oozed from the nub was used to further the massage. Alex never touched a wing before, but the kid was a quick learner. Judging by the way Michael twisted and arched, low murmurs of pleasure slipping from his lips, Alex could tell he was doing pretty damn good. 

Which only meant that the next time Michael had something to say, Alex would be prepared to stop him in his tracks with a simple massage to his wings. It was amazing what could bring these cold blooded murderers to nothing but docile oversized birds that nuzzled into your neck for attention and harder wing rubs.


End file.
